Fhang, Rise of the Wytchking
by Amethystle505
Summary: Blood mine, blood thine, blood ours.


As the Everlife is the superior form of humanity, so too is the Arkanimal to the animal.

So mote it be.

According to Arklore, all manner of magical creatures descended from twelve immortal beings. These entities, some fluid in sex, gave birth to an innumerable proliferation of new beasts.

To hide themselves from humanity, Arkanimals evolved the ability to assume human form. Largely, theirs was a blessed existence. Benevolently lording over their lesser brethren, Arkanimals kept the peace and upheld Arklaw with claw, tooth, hoof, and paw.

However, in the wilds of Jadenweir, there came to exist a thirteenth entity born long after the original twelve. This entity-an unholy conglomerate of creatures-arose through the suspension of natural law during times of settlement by the first Wytch coven. An abomination by definition, the thirteen being was coined the Wytch's Affliction, born to stalk the coven throughout their annual migration and keep order. He preyed on and killed any Wytch who strayed from the astringent traditions of the coven's queen.

None who saw the fiend lived to describe him, creating a faceless, formless monster, ravenous with divinely just hunger. This abomination came to be known as Fhang.

As the years ticked by and the coven thrived faithfully, Fhang's wrath grew rarer and he passed into legend—a mere bedtime story meant to keep Wytch children within the Wytchway. They forgot him.

The dawn of humans came. Wytches, the Arkanymal branch closest to human, became a bridge between two peoples. By law, Wytches never took the life of any creature. Instead, these nomadic wanderers sewed magic into the soil as they traveled and relied solely on the earth for clothing and sustenance. Their coming meant a bountiful harvest. To disrespect a Wytch was unthinkable. Throughout the land, they garnered the most respect of any Arklineage for their service to farmers and the betterment of mankind.

However, as human as they appeared, Wytches still adhered to natural animal law.

Only the strongest survived, the injured and infirm receiving only minimal and mundane aid. Magic chose its children. Magic reigned supreme. Magic was never to be used to heal or provide unnatural advantage counter to the natural order. Willpower trumped all spells. A Wytch meant to exist would overcome any obstacle.

Three Wytchlings, barely into their teens, began to practice magic outside of their queen's sanctioned rituals. Thirsting for the frivolity denied to them by the Wytchway, they abused magic at their leisure. Called to rectify the imbalance, Fhang returned. During the Wytchlings' first confrontation with Fhang, one of them was killed and another badly mauled. The remaining two Wytches of the trio, distraught and guilt ridden, returned to their queen to seek forgiveness and protection. When Queen Mydna blamed them, the older of the two—enraged by her indifference—took Solace (a respected Wytch tradition of emotional leave) in the surrounding woodlands.

There, his wounds festered.

The Wytch began to change, undergoing a metamorphosis that awoke a dormant gene sleeping in his veins. With his transformation complete, the reborn Wytch realized a cruel and terrible truth. He no longer valued the pacifistic Wytchway. Instead, he saw the world through a predator's eyes. Mortified by his new identity, he left Mydna's coven and his grieving companion behind to seek meaning to his existence. During this journey, he embraced the changes. Lust for vengeance grew within him alongside a frothing hatred for Fhang, the murderer of his loved one.

So, he too began killing.

He trained hard, honing his newborn skills with wild and fierce determination. He grew stronger. And when the time was right, he took Fhang's life with his own hands.

That winter, he returned to Mydna's coven, dragging Fhang's rotting corpse by the teeth. He wore Fhang's skin as clothing—an affront to Wytchway in itself.

When Queen Mydna rebuked his blasphemy against Wytch's Affliction, he corrected her. For he had not killed their tormentor.

He had become him.

After slaughtering the coven that had raised him, he sank into a bleak, shadow steeped existence-a new Fhang. There, he perfected crafts untouched by what were once his people. Utterly alone and infinite in faculty, it became startling clear to him that the only thing capable of sating his hatred would be a matching monster-a predator of similar ilk capable of standing not behind or before him, but beside him.

He started to seek belonging in the many corners of the world, eventually encountering all twelve of his immortal predecessors. No one wanted him. Again, he retreated to his solitude, ignoring the political and violent turmoil engulfing the outside world. One night, a stranger-Dragynn the son of Wyrmm-came to his fortress. War of unprecedented reach was coming. And he would not leave until Fhang, at long last, chose a side.


End file.
